Homecoming
by Lady Tempest
Summary: (future YAOI content) Seifer finds himself in the middle of nowhere with no idea how he got there. Where is he? Why? And will he ever get back home? Rated R for language and violence. *New 7/15 Part 7 and revised Parts 5 & 6*
1. Homecoming Part 1

Untitled Document

> > _**Author's Note**: _Firstly, in order to not spoil elements of this story, I can't reveal which part of the game it contains spoilers for. So be advised, that if you haven't **finished** the game, and don't want **any** of it spoiled, it would be best to wait until you have before reading this fic. 
>> 
>> Also, I'm toying with a few usually assumed perspectives on certain game elements. I thought they would be interesting; One being a new angle on the 'was Seifer mind-controlled or willing?' debate. That's about as much as I can reveal of both my motivations and the plot. 
>> 
>> Disclaimer: Squaresoft owns FF8 and it's characters, not me. I'm just having fun with them. 
>> 
>> Warnings: Angst (always), foul language, slight graphic violence.   

>>
>>>   
  
  

>> 
>> Homecoming   
__By Lady Tempest 
>> 
>>   
  

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> Desolation. A vast, cracked expanse of nothingness. Just beige, and brown, and gray, as far as Seifer's narrowed blue eyes could see. He blinked, lifting his head from the dry ground, dust and dirt clinging to the sweat dripping down his cheek.. 
>> 
>> Where was he? How did he get here? Seifer shook his head to clear it of the haze clouding his mind like the gray clouds overhead hid the sun. But nothing settled into place, nothing ordered his jumbled thoughts, or made sense of his situation. 
>> 
>> Carefully, he sat up, his body aching and weary. His muscles were sore, and as he moved, dozens of sharp stings merged into one slap of seething pain. 
>> 
>> "Shit. If I didn_t know better, I_d think I was on the losing end of some epic battle or something, " he muttered to himself with a grimace of pain. "Fuck, I hurt!" 
>> 
>> He slowly shifted so he sat cross-legged. Staring down at himself, he ran his gloved fingers absently through his sun-gold hair, his brows wrinkling in confusion. His clothes were ragged, slashed and tinged with dark red in places, scorched black in others. Clear blue eyes wide, his poked a finger through one of the burned holes in his vest and winced as he brushed blistered skin. 
>> 
>> "Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell is going on!" 
>> 
>> Clenching his teeth against the pain, Seifer eased out of his trenchcoat, and let it slide to the ground in a rumpled, pale-gray heap around him. As he unzipped his vest, he gasped. Oozing cuts and burns riddled his broad chest, angry red skin streaked and sticky with blood, much of it dried and caking, except in the crusted wounds themselves, which still seeped. 
>> 
>> "Well, that explains the pain" His lips quirked wryly. "Now how the hell'd this happen!" he screamed to the clouds above. "Damn, this sucks! Last I remember... I... was..." He kneaded his forehead, eyes tightly closed. "I was... where the fuck was I? Why can_t I remember?" 
>> 
>> He slammed his fist into the ground, leaving a small crater of crumbling dirt. "Fuck this shit! Damned if I'm going to sit in the middle of fucking nowhere trying to figure it out." 
>> 
>> Anger overriding the pain, he hauled himself to his feet, snatching his trenchcoat as he rose. 
>> 
>> "Now where the hell is Hyperion?" His blue-green eyes darted, scanning the ground around him. Several yards away a long object lay, reflecting darkly from the overcast sky. With quick strides Seifer stood over his gunblade, glints of gold and pink-beige flashing in the metal on the few places not dusted with dirt. 
>> 
>> He smiled. "Well at least one thing is going right today." 
>> 
>> After gathering his weapon and wiping it as clean as he could on the side of his dark pants, he glanced off into the distance. Flat land surrounded him endlessly in all directions but one. A cropping of rocks grew into hills, then low mountains further off. If he had any hope of finding civilization and his way home, the mountains would be the key. At the least, he would get a better vantage point to the actual lay of the land. 
>> 
>> With a deep sigh, he headed towards them.   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> How long he had been wandering, Seifer didn't know. It seemed like days, but although his lips were dry, he wasn't overcome with thirst. Well, not unbearably so. Hours then. Maybe less, if he felt like being optimistic. His body still ached and every so often one of his cuts would reopen as he stumbled his way through the rocky hills. 
>> 
>> But he was Seifer Almasy. And if one thing that could be said about Seifer: he was unrelenting. Stubborn, some would say. He never gave up. And would never give up, even if it killed him. 
>> 
>> The hills sloped upward, rocks weathered with erosion jutting in sudden outcroppings. The way become more difficult as the terrain of stone rose and fell in uneven clusters like the scattered remains of a crumbled mountain. 
>> 
>> Bent over and limping, his breath heavy and erratic, Seifer struggled to the top of the nearest peak of rocks. More weary than he would ever admit, even to himself, he fell to his knees and rested his tired body for a few moments on the warm stone. Just a few moments. 
>> 
>> Taking a stabilizing breath, he looked up and stared out over the hazy distance. There had to something nearby, anything to either tell him where he was or how to get home. And a med-kit or heal-potion or two would also be nice. 
>> 
>> His dry lips quirked into a cross between a smirk and a grimace. A lot of things would be nice: home, a comfortable bed with cool sheets, a cold drink,... holding the one he loved after such a long time apart... 
>> 
>> Like lightening striking, his mind flashed a clear memory: Timber. He had been in Timber. To protect his love. To make sure President Deling came under the just edge of his gunblade. The bastard wouldn't oppress anyone anymore. But... 
>> 
>> A woman in black, beautiful, exotic, powerful. She... she... He slammed his fist against the rock, ignoring the shot of pain coursing through his fingers. 
>> 
>> "Dammit!" 
>> 
>> Abruptly, he stood. His legs wobbly, Seifer leaned lightly on Hyperion to steady him. The metal gleamed in the muted light of the overcast sky. He wasn't accomplishing anything sitting on his ass, _admiring _the scenery. 
>> 
>> Shielding his eyes with his gloved hand, he studied the land spread before him like a dull brown blanket, creased and crinkled with wrinkles and folds. One of those folds drew his gaze. A irregular shape, dark and angled, squarish, like a box. Or a house. 
>> 
>> He narrowed his eyes intently. A faint tendril of gray rose in wispy curls. Smoke. Too thin to be anything other than a cook-fire or a chimney. Seifer grinned and began his descent.   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> Seifer strode toward a small house, shack actually, nestled against a large rock-face, and pieced together by sheets of metal and other scraps, much of it appearing to be fragments of what was once a vehicle of some sort. He swallowed his pain and weariness, carrying himself with his usual well-masking confidence, and a little subtle help from his gunblade. 
>> 
>> "Hello? Anyone here?" he called as he neared the makeshift door of a ragged and dusty brown-gray curtain. If, as it seemed, whoever lived here had been stranded in a crash or vehicle breakdown, there was little hope that civilization was nearby. But, at the least, maybe he could get some water, food, and bandages for his wounds. 
>> 
>> A clamor of metal clanging against metal rang from inside the shack, a strange modulating echo, both muffled and clear. Suddenly, the curtained door was flung aside and a haggard face, under a scraggly mop of white hair, peered at him with surprise-wide eyes. 
>> 
>> "Who'er you?" the old man croaked, voice sounding disused. 
>> 
>> Seifer flashed his most friendly grin. "Seifer Almasy," he said with a slight bow, his trenchcoat swaying with the flourish of his free arm. 
>> 
>> The man coughed. "Well, Seifer Almasy. Whatcha doin' out here? Kinda far fur a young'in ta be jus' wanderin' _bout." 
>> 
>> "True true. You see, I'm..." Seifer hated to admit it. "... lost. And I'm trying to find the nearest town, village, whatever, so I can get back home." 
>> 
>> "Lost, eh?" Stepping outside the doorway, the old man chuckled. "Ya ain't kindin', boy." 
>> 
>> Seifer fought back the urge to growl at the man, his teeth grinding to keep his pleasant smile. 'Boy. He hated being called 'boy'. "Yeah, well, it does seem that way," he said with a nervous laugh, running his hand through his dust-dulled hair. "Could you tell me where I am and how to get to the nearest town?" 
>> 
>> The old man scratched his beard-scruffed cheek. "Eh, well, where? Near as I ken fig'r, 'bout fifteen _er twenty miles north'a the coast. Least that where I's headed 'fore ma' truck broke down." 
>> 
>> "The coast? Which coast? Galbadia or Balamb?" Things were looking up if he were that close to either. Although he didn't recall the Balamb continent having such a huge expanse of nothing. 
>> 
>> The man blinked at him like Seifer was the biggest idiot he ever met, then bent over laughing so hard he broke into a fit of choked coughs. Seifer narrowed his blue eyes and frowned, but patiently waited for the crazy old man to finish his amusement at Seifer's expense. 
>> 
>> Stifling more chuckles, the man straightened. "Galbadia? Balamb? Boy, ya _are _lost! Ya'r on Esthar, boy. Esthar!" 
>> 
>> Esthar? Esthar? How the fuck did he get on Esthar? It was impossible! The old coot was crazy. A complete nutjob! "That's impossible. I've never been to Esthar," Seifer stated confidently, like he was speaking to child who was struggling with the difference between right and left. 
>> 
>> The old man grinned at Seifer in the same intent, but with the added attitude that Seifer was not only a confused child, but dirt stupid as well. Seifer's eyes flashed pale blue fire. One thing Seifer hated more than being called 'boy' was being called 'stupid'. 
>> 
>> "Well, ya have now, boy," the man snickered. "Ya have now." 
>> 
>> Taking a deep breath, Seifer clamped down his growing rage, his lips thin, pale, and tight. "Supposing this _is _Esthar." Which was still impossible. "Where is the nearest town or settlement? I need to get back to Balamb." 
>> 
>> "Well.." The man tapped his scraggly chin. "... if ya head that'a way..." He pointed towards what looked like a pass through a towering stand of rocks. "Ther' should be somethin'. Likely an airbase. I see planes flyin' o'erhead from time ta time comin' from that'a way." 
>> 
>> Seifer happily left the crazy old man, who not only told him the ridiculous tale of being on Esthar... Yeah, right!... was also kind enough to spare some a flask of water, slightly dirty though it was, and a bit of dried lizard meat. For an infuriating nutjob, he was alright. 
>> 
>> The old coot obviously didn't have much to spare for bandages, as all the cloth he had was ragged enough. However, he allowed Seifer use of a jagged pocketknife to cut strips from the legs of his dark pants. Hell if he'd sacrifice his trenchcoat, no matter how much better the improvised bandages would have been. Pants could be replaced, but _no one_ messed with the coat. 
>> 
>> Cleaning and binding his wounds as best he could, he had set off in the direction he was told, his long, pale legs stark even against the bland terrain and dull sky. Royal blue silk peeked from under his pants-now-shorts with his every other step, his treasured coat fluttering behind him like a pale-gray cape. 
>> 
>> Hopefully, the old man wasn't as completely senile as he had seemed and his course would indeed bring him to someone who could truly help. Hell, he would almost be happy if it _was _Esthar, and an airbase was ahead. He would get home all the quicker. Home, where he could ensure his beloved was safe and sound and in his arms.   

>> 
>> (end Part 1)(tbc) 


	2. Homecoming Part 2

Untitled Document

  
_Homecoming_   
_By Lady Tempest_

>   
** Part 2:**   

>
>> > He had settled down, for what seemed to be the night, under a overhang of rocks, the shade a cool respite from the dry heat. The sky had darkened to a deep blue-gray, clouds still thick and hiding sun or moon. A family of small lizards skittered away from him, deposed by Seifer's long body from the home they had temporarily claimed as their own. 
>>> 
>>> "Hey, be thankful I'm not cooking you for dinner," he smirked after them with a chuckle. 
>>> 
>>> He took a quick swallow from the water-flask, accustomed enough after the day's travel to its murky taste to actually feel refreshed. After wiping his moistened lips with the back of his hand, he recapped the flask and set it aside. Bunching his trenchcoat into a mock-pillow, and resting his head wearily upon it, he slept.   

>>> 
>>> The next morning he rose to sunlight slowly creeping into his shelter, pushing back the cooling shadows. After a quick breakfast of the dried meat and water, he once again set out for the supposed Esthar Airstation. Reasonably bandaged and nourished, his trek progressed far more smoothly than the previous day. Plus, much of the terrain he followed had leveled to rocky plains, then merely flattened dirt, and then, eventually, sparsely tufted with dry grasses. 
>>> 
>>> As the sun began dipping toward the dark blue-brown haze to the west, a low, even rumble fell from the sky. Covering his eyes from the sun's glare, he looked up. A dark, bird-like shadow streaked to the east across the pale, blue-gray, trailing a tail of misting white behind it. 
>>> 
>>> "I'll be damned! There probably _is _an airstation nearby." Seifer's blond brows lifted in surprise, then he shook his head. "Well, shit. Talk about your strange coincidences." 
>>> 
>>> With a shrug, he continued onward, using the slowly fading stream of white as a marker back to the aircraft's likely origin. Luck seemed to be on his side.   

>>> 
>>>   

>>> 
>>> Just as the last sliver of sun disappeared into the horizon, Seifer sighted a smooth square of uniform gray crossed with thin lines of the same, in contrast to the rich green surrounding it. Tiny shapes, like boxy pebbles, clustered on its western edge, a single monolith rising in their midst, glittering in the fading sunlight. 
>>> 
>>> Seifer grinned in triumph. Whatever and wherever it was, it was man-made. Man-made meant people. People meant civilization. And Civilization meant a way home. He resisted the urge to shout for joy, and instead settled for a quiet, heart-felt laugh. 
>>> 
>>> "Nothing can keep Seifer Almasy down." His smirk was so wide it crinkled his eyes. "Not a damn thing! Heh, sometimes I`m so amazing, I amaze myself." 
>>> 
>>> A burst of energy in his steps, he strode ahead, like a lord returning to his castle, trenchcoat billowing behind him, a rushing breeze ruffling through his tousled, dirt blond hair. Add a white horse, and it would have been like something from the movies and books he loved so much. Tales of chivalry, and honor, and knights. Knights slaying dragons, protecting fair maidens, or as in his romantic dream, a sorceress; Seeing her safe from the harm of those who wouldn't understand her power and would fear her for it. And he, more than most, understood being misunderstood. 
>>> 
>>> A twinge of gloom washed over him, dampening his good mood. He was tired of no one accepting him for the way he was. Tired of working his ass off to become a SeeD and failing every time. All because his nature resisted acting like a mindless drone. Resisted acting like Zell; Zell-kiss-ass-tattle-tale-chicken-wuss-Dincht. Or like Gloom-boy Squall. 
>>> 
>>> But at least Squall had potential. Squall could be roused to dare the daring, brave the bounds of possibility. Sure, he needed a friendly, little, encouraging nudge. But Seifer knew just where to nudge. And honestly, was the only one who knew. That much was obvious. Then again, he was the only one who bothered to approach Squall on terms Squall understood. On terms they both understood. 
>>> 
>>> Yet, in all his life only one person truly understood him, the him down deep he rarely showed. Only one listened to his dreams, his sorrows, and filled his heart with a love so warm the cold of the world could never touch him, no matter how often he failed in his dreams. And no matter how far apart they were, their hearts would always be one. 
>>> 
>>> He smiled, the gloom lifting, chased away by a sweet, undying love.   

>>> 
>>>   

>>> 
>>> The sun had fully set by the time he approached the base. Floodlights illuminated the area in a dome of bright white. Glowing red and blue dotted the runways like a string of luminous beads. 
>>> 
>>> A large sign spanned the wide opening in the chain fence surrounding the complex. As Seifer looked up at it, he blinked. 'Esthar Airstation' was scrawled in neat letters across the brilliant white in slightly sun-faded red paint. 
>>> 
>>> "Shit! This... this can't be!" Seifer stammered, his eyes twin flecks of blue in a field of huge white. "It's impossible! Impossible!" 
>>> 
>>> "What's impossible, son?" A deep voice suddenly asked from out of nowhere. 
>>> 
>>> Seifer jumped at the sound, surprised both by it and the fact that it had surprised him. He had to be slipping, or loosing his mind, or both, to let an unknown so close without noticing and being at the ready. 
>>> 
>>> Quickly turning to his right, he saw a husky, uniformed man, shorter than he was, but broader, approach him, a rifle slung over his shoulder. 
>>> 
>>> "Uh, hello," Seifer replied with a nervous grin. Not good. Not good at all to be so edgy. "I, uh, was just wondering were exactly I am." 
>>> 
>>> "Where!" The guard's thick eyebrows scrunched together, then he pointed to the sign. "Can't you read, son?" 
>>> 
>>> Seifer took a deep breath, smoothing his hand through his hair. `Do not get pissed`, `Do not get pissed`, ran through his head like a chant. "Well, yeah, but... You see..." Fuck it. The guy wasn't going to believe him. Hell, he was beginning to wonder. Telling him that last Seifer remembered he was about to kill President Deling and save a lot of people a lot of misery and then, suddenly, he was in the middle of fucking nowhere, wouldn't be very helpful. 
>>> 
>>> "...Ah, nevermind. Do you know how I can get to Balamb from here?" 
>>> 
>>> "Balamb?" The guard made an amused snort. "You're a bit far from Balamb, son." 
>>> 
>>> "So I've been told," Seifer muttered with a wry grin. 
>>> 
>>> The hulking man's head abruptly quirked to the side and he moved closer to Seifer, studying him. "You know, you look familiar." 
>>> 
>>> "I do?" Seifer took an unconscious step back. Oh wonderful! What if the guy had seen him on the broadcast from Timber? He could be in deep shit. Aside from not exactly being in prime condition if worse came to worse, he didn't want anyone getting hurt unnecessarily; He just wanted to get home. "Uh, I don't know why. I'm not from around here." 
>>> 
>>> "Hmmm." 
>>> 
>>> "Listen, I `m just looking to get home. If you could give me directions on how to get to Balamb, that would be great," he said, flashing his most charming `Almasy smile'. Who could resist? But for some reason it didn't work. How could it not work? Instead of relaxing, the guard stared at him more intently, fingers tightening on his rifle. 
>>> 
>>> Recognition sparked the guard's dark eyes, and he frowned. "I know you! You're Seifer Almasy!" 
>>> 
>>> Or, maybe it had worked? Too well? "Yeah..." Wary, Seifer took another step back. What did the man think he knew about him? It`s not like he had _that _infamous of a reputation. Fuzzy though his memory of the day before was, he knew he hadn`t actually killed Deling. Hadn't even harmed a hair on the bastard's tyrannical head. But somehow Deling had escaped... And... and ... 
>>> 
>>> Aww, fuck it! He never overly analyzed things in the past, why the hell start? It would only get him into trouble anyway. "So ...?" Seifer shrugged. Well, he never claimed diplomacy was his strong point either. 
>>> 
>>> "So? So?" The guard lowered his rifle from his shoulder and aimed it towards Seifer. 
>>> 
>>> "Woah! Hey now, Happy, that's not necessary." Holding up his only free hand in a dissuasive gesture, Seifer's other curled discretely around the hilt of Hyperion at his side. "If I didn't know better, I would be starting to get nervous. I don`t know what you think I`ve done, but it`s all a misunderstanding." 
>>> 
>>> "There's no misunderstanding, Knight. Now put down your weapon slowly and no one will get hurt." The guard's intense expression chilled Seifer with the dire seriousness of the situation he had fallen into. 
>>> 
>>> What the hell? Was everyone he met a complete loon? Okay, the flaky old guy seemed to be right about the whole Esthar Airstation thing. But _this _guy was totally nuts. Probably disgruntled over how boring his job was and craved a little excitement. But hell if Seifer Almasy was going to be that excitement! The guy should take up Triple Triad or something. Anything that didn't involve bullets and Seifer's flesh would be a nice start. A damn nice start! 
>>> 
>>> "Listen. All I want is to get home. I don't want any trouble. So, I'll just be walking away now." Seifer began carefully backing away. "See, I leave, you don't shoot me, everyone's happy." Maybe that diplomacy stuff wasn't so difficult afterall. 
>>> 
>>> "Stop right there! I'm placing you under arrest." 
>>> 
>>> "What the hell?" Oh, for fuck's sake! If he hadn't been standing there, rifle-barrel at his chest, he would have rolled his eyes and thought it all some idiotic joke. "Hey, I'm sorry your job is so miserable, but no need to take it out on me." Another backward step, Seifer's eyes were riveted to guard's shaking hands and the rifle within them. 
>>> 
>>> "I said stop, or I'll shoot." 
>>> 
>>> Enough! Seifer had enough. He was officially pissed. Obviously no amount of talking was going to get the idea through the lunatic's thick head that Seifer wasn't a threat and just wanted to be on his way, minding his own business; Just wanted to get to Garden. 
>>> 
>>> With a whirl of his light-bleached white coat, and a flash of silver, Seifer rushed the guard. A shot fired. But whether it found its target or not, his adrenaline and momentum surged him forward, oblivious to all else but the opponent before him. Ducking to the side, his body remarkably quick and agile for his tall, muscular frame, Seifer moved behind the guard like a ghost on the wind. The blunt handle of Seifer's gunblade and a well-placed blow to the back of the man's head crumpled the guard to his knees. 
>>> 
>>> Without a pause, Seifer snatched the rifle from the guard's limp hands and ran into the night, splatters of red trailing behind him on the pale concrete.   

>>> 
>>> (end part 2) 
>>> 
>>> [Back to Part 1][1] [On to Part 3][2]

   [1]: Homecoming.html
   [2]: Homecoming-part3.html



	3. Homecoming Part 3

Untitled Document

> >   

>> 
>> Homecoming   
__By Lady Tempest 
>> 
>>   

>> 
>> **Part 3:**   

>> 
>> Self-preservation provided an incredible and desperate store of energy. Well past sundown, Seifer drove himself beyond the weariness sapping his body even to his bones. Ache overlapped ache overlapped ache. But until the bright white glow of the Airstation was a tiny, distant dot, he couldn't stop. No matter that he had been on his feet since a few hours after dawn. No matter that his wounds still stung, and throbbed, and itched. Even, no matter that his shoulder burned like a raging fire. Stopping, resting. was not an option he could afford to take. 
>> 
>> His steps stumbling shuffles, he dragged himself onward. The light behind him was about the size of his fist. Seifer still needed to push a little further, just a little longer. Just a little longer. Just a...   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> Bright, glaring red assaulted his closed eyes. With a groan, he woke, his pale lashes flickering in the bombarding light of the sun. He lifted his head from the dry, scratchy ground, dirt and dust and grass clinging to the sweat and blood staining his cheek. Taking a deep breath and a reflexive swallow, he suddenly broke into a fit of coughs, his throat so parched his tongue nearly stuck to the roof of his mouth. 
>> 
>> The coughing shook his body, each spasm shooting pain from his shoulder to the ends of his every nerve. Fumbling into his coat pocket, Seifer grasped for the water-flask. Between coughs he tried to steady it to his lips, then downed the little remaining of the lukewarm water. But it was enough to soothe his throat and his convulsing lungs. 
>> 
>> He eased himself upright, the searing pain in his shoulder clamping his eyes shut and quickening his breath. Once the pain subsided, his head lolled back and he stared straight upward to the pale gray-white clouds. 
>> 
>> Shit! What a mess! Lost in the middle of nowhere. Well, scratch that, in the middle of fucking Esthar! Seifer glanced down at the flask lying between his sprawled legs. Picking it up and giving it a quick shake, he sighed. 
>> 
>> Out of fucking water. Tired... No. Damn fucking tired! Apparently so damn fucking tired he didn't remember when he had stopped last night to sleep. Shot. He grimaced as he threaded his gloved finger through the hole in his trenchcoat. Shot by a fucking lunatic in the middle of fucking nowhere, or fucking Esthar, or fucking whatever. He didn't give a shit where he was anymore except that it wasn't home! And if all that wasn't enough to completely and totally fucking piss him off, nutjob number two ruined his coat. Talk about having a shitty day. He couldn't imagine anything could possibly make it any worse.   

>> 
>> Yet once more, he continued on, keeping the sun`s westward path always to his left. There was no way he was going to let some never-ending plain, a hot sun, or a loon in a uniform defeat him. No one defeated him. Not even Squall. Although the gloomy little bastard came close a few times. Unconsciously, Seifer rubbed at the scar between his eyes, faintly wistful. 
>> 
>> But as always, their duels ended in a draw. It would almost irritate him if he hadn't expected anything less from Squall Leonhart. Seifer smirked. They were two of a kind and Seifer wouldn't have it any other way. 
>> 
>> Before he realized it, Seifer was standing on the crest of a rocky hill. He hadn't noticed the slow incline until he was at the top of it, the slope so gradual it had felt like even land until it no longer was. He blinked, then let a slow grin spread across his handsome face. 
>> 
>> To the west, A vast ocean lay before him, and when he squinted, he could see a thin white line, wavering in the distant haze, spanning the blue-gray. 
>> 
>> Licking his dry lips, Seifer shook his head. "'Water, water everywhere, yet not a drop to drink'," he muttered wryly. "Well, at least I'm closer to home." 
>> 
>> He slid down the hillside to the rocky beach, anxious for a good soak to at least marginally wash away the dirt and sweat and blood clinging to him and his clothes. As he neared the ocean in a stuttered run, Seifer tugged off his gloves, flinging them to the pebbled beach. Alternating a somehow graceful one-legged hop, his boots soon followed, landing with a thump near the gloves. 
>> 
>> Without a second thought, he surged past the foamy waves lapping the shore, his coat buffeted by the strong sea-breeze then quickly gone limp, water soaking from hem to hip in darkening gray. Bursting in an energy his weary body had thought exhausted, Seifer dove, smiling, into the deepening waves. The sunlight sparkled and glowed as stained glass, dancing through shades of blue and gray, like Squall's eyes, while the water swept over him. The cool of the ocean, after the constant dry heat, was refreshing, despite the salt of the ocean stinging his wounds. Oddly, it even was somehow soothing, a bite that relieved through pain. 
>> 
>> Seifer broke from the water, a rain of glittering silver flying around him as he shook his dripping-wet hair. Slicking both hands through the tousled gold, he trudged back to the shore, sand tickling and squishy under his toes. His soaked clothing hung heavily on him, clinging to his skin like liquid, leaving little of his form hidden, hardened nipples as apparent as if he had been shirtless. 
>> 
>> His shoulder throbbed and ached, yet the salty pain-salve of the ocean subdued the intensity by its own. Renewed, Seifer snatched up his boots and gloves and continued onward.   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> Following the coastline, Seifer soon approached a make-shift village, more like a haphazard collection of half a dozen shacks huddled together far enough from the shore to not be affected by the tide. At least a quarter of a mile further on led to a tighter cluster of sturdier buildings surrounding the Esthar end of Fisherman's Horizon. 
>> 
>> Tiny battered boats floated along the shoreline tethered to a rundown dock, floorboards broken in many places or rotted. A pair of giggling children splashed and played in the foamy water crashing onto the beach. 
>> 
>> Seifer smiled and approached an older woman sitting on a wooden crate, mending a net. Hopefully he would have better luck with her sanity than the last people he had dealt with over the past few days. Well, third time's the charm. 
>> 
>> "Hello, Ma'am," he said with a sweeping bow. 
>> 
>> The woman looked up at him, confusion further wrinkling her weathered features, then gave him a friendly smile. "Hello, young man." 
>> 
>> "I'm trying to get to Balamb Garden..." 
>> 
>> "Balamb? You're rather far." 
>> 
>> Far? Well, only if one considered walking for three days to get where he was and still have some distance to go `far'? Of course he was far from home! Why did everyone find it necessary to point out the damn obvious? 
>> 
>> "Yes, I am. I was hoping I could get there by one of the boats." Seifer gestured casually towards the dock. 
>> 
>> "Oh. You live in Balamb?" 
>> 
>> "Yeah, Garden. I'm trying to get home, and to see my sweetheart," he said softly, his eyes smiling, shining with an inner light. 
>> 
>> "Oh! You dear boy." The old woman set aside her mending and grasped his black-gloved hand, patting it warmly. "So many young men so far from home. Horrible war. Terrible things that sorceress did. Thank Hyne it's over. My Ergin should be back any day now himself. He's in the Esthar army, you know." 
>> 
>> Oh, great! Another nutcase! Yet, he could pity the poor woman, living in the past. 
>> 
>> "Such a good boy. I couldn't ask for a better grandson." 
>> 
>> Grandson? Grandson! The fucking war was seventeen _years _ago! There was no way she was old enough to have had a grandson in the war. Poor crazy old woman. Not only was she so out of her mind she had no fucking clue what day or even what _year _it was, but she was delusional as well. 
>> 
>> He was starting to think he had somehow entered one of the stories Matron used to tell where some silly girl stumbled into a strange other-world where everyone was insane. Matron would always look at him with confused amusement as he'd burst into giggles when the Red Queen entered the story. Crazy as the queen was, she was funny. 'Off with their heads!' He suppressed a reflective snicker. 
>> 
>> However, childhood memories weren`t getting him any closer to home and eventually, his love. "Uh, ma'am. I'll need a boat to get me back..." 
>> 
>> "Oh... oh... of course! Talk to Joe, by the dock, and tell him I said to take you to Balamb." 
>> 
>> "Thank you, ma'am." Wow! He was getting damn good at diplomacy. If Cid could see him... He could work with others just fine. Even loonies. Problem student, his ass! 
>> 
>> "But first..." Rising, the old woman hobbled towards the door of her tiny house. "...Come inside and have some tea and a bite to eat. You look hungry, young man," she said with a grandmotherly tone. "When was the last time you ate? And you look an mess. The war must've been really hard on you." 
>> 
>> Well, she might be crazy, but she was nice. And more importantly, _not _trying to shoot him. That was always a plus. Besides, it was just more proof of the Almasy charm. What woman could resist him? Seifer grinned. "Thank you."   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> The journey from the outskirts of Fisherman's Horizon to the shores of Balamb was uneventful and mostly silent. For much of the trip only the roar of wind, splash and churn of waves, and the metallic hum of the motorboat broke the quiet. Seifer was anxious to be home, his thoughts a scramble of excitement, joy, and relief to finally be back where he belonged and hopefully soon with whom he belonged. And would belong for ever. 
>> 
>> Apparently, his pilot, Joe, recognized his wistful mood, as the man said little, except when they first started out. He seemed a quiet guy anyway. 
>> 
>> The wind ruffled Seifer's hair as he stared onward to the island looming ahead. First a haze of green among the blue-gray sky, Balamb slowly took form. Home. He was almost home.   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> With a wide grin he finally stepped onto Balamb's shore, the blue sky tinting pink. He turned and waved to Joe, the one person he had met who _hadn't _been crazy. But then, maybe he just hadn't talked to him enough to find out otherwise. Wouldn't be surprising anymore the way his past several days had been. 
>> 
>> "Thanks," Seifer said as he absently combed through his windblown hair with his fingers and extended his other hand in farewell. "You have no idea what I've been through to get here. I'd pay you, but..." 
>> 
>> Joe took his offered hand and shook it. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing to help someone who helped fight against the sorceress." 
>> 
>> Seifer blinked. Well, maybe he could be surprised after all.   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> He entered Balamb Town with a pleased, although weary, sway to his long, elegant stride and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. In all his dreams of knightly adventure, he would have never thought he could be so happy to see the familiar sights of home. Or near home. Quaint stone houses lining the main street which led into town, the inn on the hill, the cry of gulls circling over the docks, even the tang of gasoline from the garage, all unexpectedly welcome. 
>> 
>> While he passed through town, townsfolk gazed at him, stunned expressions on their faces, or pointed and whispered with their friends. As much as he enjoyed the attention, he had a strange sense of anxiety. He had always wanted to be admired, for his bravery and strength, though not to discount his good-looks. But he had yet to achieve his dream and since he also had yet to make SeeD, honestly, he couldn't understand what he had done to cause such interest when only a few days ago it hadn't existed. 
>> 
>> Oh! Damn! Must be the Deling thing again. He figured that certainly would cause a bit of a stir. Well, at least he had no worries of getting mobbed in Balamb. No one would have much sympathy toward President Deling. 
>> 
>> Seifer sighed. Although Garden might not be so happy about it. But he had done what he thought was right, even if it had gotten all screwed up. And... Fuck! Chicken-wuss hadn't helped by blabbing about them being from Balamb Garden. Idiot! Well, he couldn't be held accountable for someone else's stupidity. 
>> 
>> Seifer suddenly stopped, his blue-green eyes wide. What... what if... He ran to the west gate, his body straining under the exhaustion of the last several days but dread driving him in spite of it. 
>> 
>> In the distance, a large building loomed, its sunset colors darkening with the sky. He smiled like a fool. Seifer had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Well, except... 
>> 
>> Garden was safe and that was all that really mattered.   

>> 
>>   

>> 
>> As he neared Balamb Garden the sky had become a deep violet-blue. He was looking forward to just collapsing into his bed and sleep for the next week. Maybe afterwards he could figure out what had happened to him and why he had been stranded in the middle of nothing. It wasn't important for the moment, he was too tired. 
>> 
>> Finally at his destination, his body protested the abuse he'd put it through with screaming clarity. Aching, and feverish, and in pain in more places than he thought he had, he stumbled through the gates and onward to inside Garden itself, falling to his knees several times, but too exhausted to register the new pain. 
>> 
>> Distantly, he noticed the few students wandering outside stare at him in surprise and horror. He knew he must be a terrible sight: clothes ragged, disheveled, bruised and bloody, and staggering around like he was beyond drunk. Hell, if _he_ saw him, he might write himself up for disorderly conduct and drunkenness. Oh! And a slovenly disregard for the dress-code. Twenty demerits! He chuckled weakly, drawing more strange looks from passing students. 
>> 
>> Dragging himself across the foyer towards the Directory, Seifer once again fell. His surroundings drifted away, his awareness constricting to a graying haze and the constant ache wringing through him. He tried to rise but his body refused, collapsing onto the cold marble. As he struggled to lift even his head from the floor, two dark, blurry figures stood suddenly frozen in the distance. One hurried to him, shouting, but all Seifer understood was tone, no words. 
>> 
>> He blinked, the gray closing on him flickering. A hand jarred his shoulder, sending a white jolt of blinding pain through him. Another loud sound, but by the scratchy tightness in his throat he suspected it had come from him. 
>> 
>> Warm breath ruffled against his hair, the hands moved but still on him, and more shouting, which he was certain wasn't him. Seifer blinked again, his cloudy eyes refocusing although the gray lingered. He smiled. 
>> 
>> Standing a short distance away was the vision of his dreams, and definitely the most beautiful sight to meet his mortal eyes. The face of an angel. A goddess. His one and only love. Delicate hands clasped in worry, soft pink lips frowning with concern, sweet brown eyes wide, stood the one who made his struggle to survive worthwhile. As he drifted into the blackness of unconsciousness, one name whispered from his smiling lips: Rinoa.   

>> 
>> (end Part 3)(tbc) 
>> 
>> Author's End Note: Writing that last paragraph nearly made me lose my lunch and my sanity. shudder> I'm going to have nightmares for sure!! Needless to say, I cannot stand Rinoa. But sometimes one has to suffer a little pain to enjoy eventual pleasure. Besides, if one pays careful attention to the last scene, I've already hinted to the cure. smirk> But, oh the pain!!! The pain!!! shudder> shudder>   



	4. Homecoming Part 4

Untitled Document

> > Homecoming   
__By Lady Tempest 
>> 
>> Part 4: 
>> 
>> A muted buzz tickled Seifer awake. With a soft groan he rubbed his sleepy eyes as they fluttered open. Light, although dimmed, assaulted him, his lashes blinking in a frenzy. Through the blur of sleep only pale greens and grays and their darker shades wavered in his lazy gaze. 
>> 
>> Where was he? Seifer swallowed and took a deep breath, clenching his eyes to banish the haze. Waking in strange places was really starting to irritate him. And unnerve him, but he wouldn't admit that, even to himself. 
>> 
>> The buzzing returned, closer, louder. Suddenly, he sensed a presence beside him, looming over him, like the weight of its shadow was a tangible thing. 
>> 
>> "Seifer?" 
>> 
>> Seifer reopened his eyes and turned his head. A long dark shape quickly focused into Squall Leonhart. Squall, gazing down at him with actual concern in his usually impassive blue-gray eyes. 
>> 
>> Home? He had made it home? Finally? Darting a glance around him, he realized he was in a room, one in the Garden infirmary from the all too familiar looks of it. Home! Seifer grinned and tried to rise, but his aching body stilled him. He felt like one big bruise, sore everywhere, even his teeth. 
>> 
>> Well, no one could ever accuse Seifer Almasy of doing anything half-assed. His grin became a wry smirk. Why single out one part of his body for a little hurting when every _inch_ of him could join in the fun? At least sore was better than the fiery pain he had _so enjoyed _the past few days or... than... He shuddered... death. 
>> 
>> "Seifer..." Squall began, when a movement behind him interrupted his smooth voice. Without turning to whomever was with him, he tilted his head slightly towards their whispering, narrowing his eyes into his trademark glare. 
>> 
>> "Whatever..." Squall muttered. 
>> 
>> Seifer had to smile. Nothing ever changed, least of all Squall Leonhart. Squall stepped towards him, arms folded over his chest. Anything else the aloof brunet did was lost to Seifer as his gaze was immediately drawn to the vision which had given him the strength to return home, the sweet angel who warmed his thoughts and dreams since last summer. 
>> 
>> "Rinoa," he whispered, his voice thick with the love pounding in his heart. Rinoa. The one, only one, who listened to him, really listened and understood him, his hurts, his frustrations, his jokes, his heart, his dreams. Always smiling, always understanding, always loving. 
>> 
>> Ignoring the aching protest of his body, he reached towards her, wanting to once again touch her soft, warm hands. But she flinched and backed away from him, her sweet brown eyes wide, like a skittish rabbit. 
>> 
>> "See!" she cried, clutching her hands to her breast. 
>> 
>> Seifer attempted to lurch upright, hurt and confusion freezing his smile, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 
>> 
>> "Don't, Seifer. Just rest," Squall said softly, urging Seifer back onto the pillows with light force. 
>> 
>> "But..." Rinoa. Why was she acting so strangely? Surely the Doc fixed him up well enough there was no need for concern? Seifer flickered a glance down at himself. Shirtless, pink splotches and lines were scattered across his bare chest, evidence of healing from Cure or its variants. His wounds would continue to fade over time, only the worst leaving scars. Obviously, he was no longer in a condition that would worry anyone, even his tender-hearted girlfriend. 
>> 
>> "I told you," Rinoa said, her lovely voice quavering. Was it in fear? Anger? Both? 
>> 
>> Seifer was confused. _What _had he been told? He couldn't remember anything important enough to have her mad or even afraid of him. "Rinoa, I don`t know..." 
>> 
>> The hand on his shoulder tightened, almost as a gesture of comfort if Seifer hadn't known it was Squall. "Rinoa, calm down. We _are_ in the infirmary," Squall muttered. His hand didn't move. 
>> 
>> Seifer's gaze flickered to Squall's, searching his ocean blue eyes for... what? He didn't know, just anything to ground him, to explain why Rinoa was so upset with him, to tell him what was wrong. But what he found only disoriented him even further: Relief, worry, guilt, a pinch of wonder. 
>> 
>> Seifer looked back to Rinoa. She was staring at Squall with a pout, a gesture Seifer always thought cute, her lower lip, soft and deep pink, pushed out and quivering. Seifer wished they could have had more time together, more than their three weeks, then he might be able to read what was bothering her. Letters may have revealed her heart, but he longed to see their love on her face. 
>> 
>> However, finally before him and still beautiful, her love was hidden. Her sparkling eyes held something unreadable, something closed. 
>> 
>> "Rinoa, what's wrong?" he said quietly, tenderly, trying to mask the rising fear of something dreadful. Squall`s hand twitched as it again tightened. 
>> 
>> Whatever was the matter must be horrible. Seifer had usually been able to read Squall's feelings, even if the rest of the world seemed clueless, however, at the moment it was _too _easy. And that was damn unsettling enough. But Rinoa, who had always been so open, was a complete mystery to him. Could he be dying? Had someone else died? Nothing made any fucking sense! 
>> 
>> "What's wrong? What's wrong! How can you be so cruel?" She took a step back, her angelic face twisting into an expression of horror, and anger. 
>> 
>> What? Cruel? Him cruel? How could she think such a thing? "Rinoa love, I don't understand. Please, tell me." 
>> 
>> "I can't believe you! After all that you've done!" she shrieked. "After all that you've done to _me_!" 
>> 
>> Squall suddenly jerked away from him and rounded on his girlfriend. Seifer`s world plummeted from under him, the loss of his rival`s hand on his shoulder a loss of some stabilizing force he hadn`t realized. 
>> 
>> "Calm the fuck down! It wasn't his fault, " Squall growled. 
>> 
>> Seifer`s mind felt as queasy as his stomach, knots and aches pounding between his temples. The dread grew. His warrior's instincts heightened. 
>> 
>> Squall`s cold voice only sent vague syllables to Seifer's dazed ears, words meaningless except that they were angry and directed at his love. 
>> 
>> "Hey, I know you're a pissy little bastard, but I don't appreciate you talking to my girlfriend that way," Seifer snapped. 
>> 
>> Squall blinked, his mouth falling slightly open. A pained look melted his icy storm-blue eyes; A look Seifer had never seen from him before, almost like a puppy kicked for pissing on the carpet. Squall turned away, his lips in a tight frown, but said nothing. 
>> 
>> The three were silent for what felt like hours. Seifer's gaze darted between Squall and Rinoa, neither of them willing to look at him. Rinoa's anger had drained. Her head was bowed, her streaked bangs hiding all but her pouty lips, and the flashes of white teeth nervously chewing them. Her delicate hands fidgeted at her waist, absently rubbing her palms against her thighs as if she rubbed sweat onto the powder-blue knit of her duster.. 
>> 
>> Something wasn't right. The sense of dread still clung to him and thickened with each passing moment. 
>> 
>> "What's going on?" 
>> 
>> Rinoa flinched. 
>> 
>> "What did I supposedly do?" Seifer pressed, leveraging himself to sit completely upright and ignoring the soreness which ached to his bones. "Does it have to do with Deling? Is he dead?" 
>> 
>> Squall sighed, an almost relieved sound. "You really don't remember, do you?" 
>> 
>> "Remember what?" 
>> 
>> Squall was again silent, threading gloved fingers through his chestnut hair, brows furrowed in thought. 
>> 
>> "I'm sorry..." Rinoa said quietly, still not looking at him. 
>> 
>> Seifer smiled. "It's okay, love. You can get mad at me all you want..." He arched a golden eyebrow seductively with a grin to match. "...as long as we get to make up." 
>> 
>> Her cheeks flushed a bright pink but the rest of her cute face paled to near white. "No, you don't understand. Seifer... I'm... I'm with Squall now." 
>> 
>> Blinking only once, he stared blankly at her. "What?" 
>> 
>> "I'm with Squall," she repeated with more forcefulness. 
>> 
>> Seifer laughed, almost in hysterics, waving his hands to stall any interruption. "Wait a sec. I _can't _be hearing you right. It sounded like you said you were dumping me for pansy-boy here?" He jabbed his thumb in Squall's direction, his narrowed eyes following with a glance.. 
>> 
>> The dark-haired boy stood quietly, gazing intently at the wall. He was the image of cold calm, except for the hands at his side, leather creaking as they clenched and unclenched. 
>> 
>> Rinoa's dark eyes darted away. "I did," she replied guiltily. "I'm sorry, Seifer. I didn't mean to hur..." 
>> 
>> Seifer slashed his hand through the air to cut her off. Lips pressed tight, he was silent for a moment, then chuckled coldly. "No worries, Princess," he sneered. "...that would assume I gave a shit in the first place." Throwing off the sheet, he stumbled to his feet, careless of his near nudity, and looked around him frantically. "Where the fuck are my clothes?" 
>> 
>> Not saying a word, Squall brushed past him and gathered a bundle of clothes from the chair next to the bed. "You shouldn't be out of bed yet," he said flatly and handed Seifer his clothes. 
>> 
>> "Yeah, well lounging around in the infirmary isn't on my list of fun things to do. So I'm out of here." 
>> 
>> Squall nodded and stepped aside, letting Seifer escape his living nightmare once he had dressed.   
  

>> 
>> (End part 4)   
(tbc) 
>> 
>> _**Author's end notes: **Before this chapter, Homecoming had been a breeze to write. This one stumped me and honestly made me sick. Torture, suicide, graphic violence, I have little problem writing, but any nice-nice sappiness towards Rinoa makes me ill smirk> . However, it was necessary for the premise of the story. I hope I haven't turned anyone off to reading the rest of the story. This should be the last of any heavy Rinoa sap and what remains is more Seifer fun. grin>_   
  



	5. Homecoming Part 5a

**Author's Note: **Decided since it's been so long since I updated, I'd post what I have so far of part 5. I am working on the rest. Actually have most of the dialogue written already (have for several months sigh>) and have alot of dialogue for other scenes too. Been suffering from a crisis of direction for the story, which I hope is solved. As a result, I might possibly have a little side series set when they're children at the orphange. I think it will be cute and give background to some of the events which are occuring/will occur in Homecoming. 

*7/15/02: Revisions; cut a scene which was duplicated at the beginning of Part 5b (Chapter 6). 

**Warnings: **Yaoi (Seifer/Squall), angst (always), foul language, possible graphic violence, and most importantly: Rinoa romance. shudder> 

Hope you like it, even though it's short. Sorry for the long wait. 

*As always, comments and criticism are welcome.   


* * *

Homecoming   
_By Lady Tempest_

* * *

Part 5a: *(**7/15/02 Revised)**

Seifer leaned against the doorframe of his room, staring into the darkness. The air was thick on his skin, a suffocating shroud; It hung heavy, dank and musty, like it had been sealed from circulation for far longer than the few days he had been gone. Fitting, he breathed the emptiness already within. 

He shuffled inside, tossing his tattered trenchcoat onto the chair he knew sat in the corner. He should have been angry, and maybe he was. But, a numbness clung to him, going deeper than the aches in his bones. Anger wouldn't get her back. And his pride wouldn't let him beg, although his heart bled to try. 

Collapsing to sit on his bed, he buried his face in his hands. How could she do this to him? How? How could she leave him alone, with no one. No one to love him, no one to understand him, to want him, to... _need _him. Alone... 

...Like always. He should have known it was all too good to be true. A sweet girl like Rinoa actually caring about him? What a joke! His own parents didn't care, so why would anyone else. They left him alone and abandoned in a world too vast and lonely for a child to understand. 

Seifer bolted upright and jumped to his feet. Fuck her! Fuck them all! His boots thumped in the darkness as he paced across the carpet, his heart booming in his ears, the heat of his racing blood flushing his skin. 

Fuck everything! He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. What an absolute fucking waste of his time. She was a fool to throw him away like last week's garbage. A total idiot! 

He continued pacing from one wall to the other, like a caged tiger. His every step was ordered by instinct, in the blackness knowing the layout of his room nearly as well as he would in the light. 

She was an idiot! Seifer Almasy was a far better catch that any she'd get again. Handsome, intelligent, a gorgeous body even another guy would die for -- if he must say so himself, funny, loyal, noble, passionate, strong... the strongest fighter Garden, hell, the world, had... ever... 

...seen... 

He stopped. Banging his head against the wall a few times, he slid to the floor and his knees. 

Fuck. She didn't want him. She wanted Squall. Gloomy, pissy, no-personality Squall. No, she _had _Squall. _She _had gotten what she wanted. And it wasn't _him_. Squall. Anti-social, irritating as hell, cold, passionless, beautiful, intelligent, strong, beautiful, funny, a body he would... 

He banged his head on the wall once more. Where the hell were _those _thoughts coming from? Only weak, sissy-boys noticed other guy's... other uh... guy's... uh... 

Shaking his mind of its disturbing thoughts, he pounded his fist on the sweat mark where his head had just been. 

... And _he _was definitely _not _a weak sissy-boy! 

...But he was _weak;_ A fact which angered him more than being rejected for a guy that looked like a girl. He wanted so much to be loved, to be needed, he left himself open for attack, vulnerable. He just never expected the attack would come from the one he trusted most. The one he trusted with his dreams and his feelings and his thoughts. The one who wanted someone else. Someone obviously stronger or why else would he lose? 

As he lifted a hand to rub the pounding ache between his temples, the chill wetness on his cheek startled him. Damn, he was weak. However, the bite of it was weak as well. The pain in his heart bled through him, pouring more tears down his face. He couldn't control it if he wanted to and he didn't have the energy to want to. 

**********   
  


...tbc...

  



	6. Homecoming Part 5b

**_Author's notes:_** This section has been heavily revised. I've broken Part 5 into 3 chapters. Parts 5b and 5c are completely new. 

Also note I have a companion story to this one. **_Homecoming~ Second Chances_** is the story from Squall's point of view. 

**Warnings: Yaoi, angst (always), foul language, possible graphic violence, and most importantly: Rinoa romance. shudder>**

* * *

**Homecoming**   
_By Lady Tempest_

* * *

  
Part 5b:   
********** 

Perhaps mere minutes or long hours passed. Which? Seifer was too dazed and numb to know the difference. A soft knock on his door stirred him from his groggy slump on the floor. Seifer curled tighter into himself, covering his head in his arms to drown out anything other than the misery in his heart. 

But the barrier wasn't enough and another knock broke through his fog of despair. With a helpless sigh and a unspoken curse, Seifer languidly pulled himself to his feet. using the aid of the wall. The slight cool of the smooth paint shivered an edge of clarity to his senses. 

Another knock, harder and more insistent, interrupted his sleepy stumble to the door. 

"Alright already. Don't get your panties in a bunch," he shouted as he fumbled for the door control, its faint red glow a beacon in the gloom. The door swished aside, pouring bright white light into the room. Seifer reflexively snapped up his arm to shield his eyes and stepped back into the soothing shadows. 

"Seifer," a voice fell from the light, low and curt. Squall. Seifer was certain, even if it was tainted by some strange quality he couldn't quite place. No one else he knew could sound both bored and like they had a big stick shoved up their ass. It was one of Pissy-boy's many talents. Along with stating the obvious. 

"Funny, how if you come knockin' on _my _door, _I'm _what you get," he smirked, but didn't feel it. He didn't feel much at the moment. Not even annoyed. Or pissed. As he should. Just a bit numb. 

Squall sighed. "Seifer, we need to talk." 

Seifer grunted a laugh. "Well, _that's _something I..." 

Squall ignored Seifer and stepped forward. Brushing against Seifer -- none too gently -- as he passed, he thwacked a gloved hand against the wall-panel beside the door. Suddenly, the room flared with a muted white light. 

Shit! Seifer's eyes narrowed to tense slits, stinging -- just from the shock of light, of course. Nothing else. Nope. Certainly not fickle, stab-in-the-back, wannabe princesses who profess their undying love and then rip one's heart to tiny shreds. Not at all. Nope. 

He winced. Shielding his eyes with his hand, his blinking lashes tickled his palm. Seifer slowly turned in place, and, peeking through the space between his fingers, watched his rival strut to the center of his room. And halt. Presumptuous little arrogant bastard. 

A wary scowl pursed Seifer's lips. "... never thought I'd hear coming from you," he finished in a low drawl. 

"Yeah, whatever..." Squall rolled his eyes but the stormy gray-blue held that same mysterious 'something' Seifer couldn't identify -- not in Squall, at least. 

"_Sure_," Seifer murmured dryly, flinging his arms wide and mock-welcoming. "Come on in, have a seat, make yourself at home, shall I get you a drink, a snack..." 

"This is serious, Seifer." 

Big surprise there! With Squall, it was always serious. Seifer folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow. Such a bundle of sunny good-cheer, that Leonhart. 

"_O-okay_, Gloom-boy, so what is it?" 

Seifer's foot tapped on the carpet, the tight weave scratchy to his bare toes. He forced the beat to seem casual, contrary to the erratic skips of his heart. And his skin itched. Kind of squirmy. 

Momentous as Squall initiating a conversation was -- he should mark it on his calendar, the one from the last Weapons Monthly he kept forgetting to hang up -- it made him nervous. Seifer half expected Squall to tell him the Doc discovered he's dying from some fuck-awful disease and had only ten minutes to live. Would figure considering how the past few days had been. Especially... 

Squall cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the floor then back to Seifer. "I... I know you've been through a lot over the past few we... uh... few days, and today...hasn't ... well.... whatever..." His eyes darted again. "...But too much has happened that you apparently don't know about." 

Squall took a quick breath and swallowed "Your safety could be at risk." 

Seifer's lips crept into a slow grin as he canted his head. "Aww, I'm touched. But what could possibly have happened that would threaten _me_?" 

The whole situation was surreal. Squall. Talking to him. First. No instigation. No challenge. Squall. Now truly his rival in _everything _-- who took Rinoa. From him. Who was concerned? _For _him? 

...Then Seifer's eyes widened. Shit! "Shit! I did kill Deling, didn't I? That's not..." 

Squall shook his head, his ocean-blue eyes intense and unwavering. "No, you didn't kill Deling. But he is dead. The..." 

His gaze shifted with a flick of his dark lashes and just as quickly returned, the intensity of it, if anything, heightened. "... the Sorceress killed him." 

Sorceress? Was _everyone _fucking insane? Seifer resisted the urge to tear out his hair in frustration. Or bang his head against a wall -- which was more or less what he felt he had been doing for the last few days anyway. Okay, _literally _within the past hour or so. And it didn't help. But that was beside the point... 

Nutcases. _That _was the point. And they seemed to be every-fucking-where! Either the whole world was going insane, or... or.... 

"What? Sorceress?" Seifer laughed, a mask to his growing hysteria, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "You have to be kidding me. If this is your attempt at humor, you may want to get new material. There hasn't been a sorceress in over _seventeen _years!" 

Squall was calm, arms folded across his chest, slender hips canted to a casual stance. Yet, his eyes... His eyes were dark like a stormy sky. "That's what we need to talk about, Seifer." 

"What? My vast knowledge of history? Or your need for a good joke. I'd offer to tutor you, but..." 

Squall sighed, his face impassive. "As much as I'd love to spend the thirty seconds it would take for you to enlighten me with your _vast _knowledge of _anything_, it's not that. It's ... " 

Squall sighed again, his lips pressing into a frown. For several silent moments he stared at Seifer. His brows quivered, like Squall was suffering an excruciating headache. Whatever was on his mind, it must have been bad because Squall almost looked worried. Or concerned. Maybe even afraid. 

Worse still, it was making Seifer afraid. Not that he'd ever admit it. But Squall's behavior since he showed up at Seifer's door was ... unsettling, to say the least. 

"It's..." Suddenly, Squall flicked his gaze away and focused well over Seifer's shoulder to the wall behind him. 

Nerves stretched thin, thrumming, Seifer's fingers dangling against his bouncing thigh twitched. What could be so bad Squall couldn't just tell him? His eyes narrowed. Why the hell wouldn't Squall just... 

"Well, fuckin' spit it out, Leonhart," Seifer blurted, his hands clenched into fists to stop them from shaking. He forced a teasing lilt to his tone at the end. Or so he hoped. It had sounded weak to his own ears, but maybe Squall was too distracted to notice. 

To Seifer's surprise, Squall's face blushed a bright red. The brunet ducked his head, the fall of his chestnut bangs fluttering under the breath of a coughed gasp. Not exactly the reaction Seifer had expected. Or dreaded. Although, in its own way, it made Seifer even more anxious than he already was. 

Squall quickly recovered, his head darting back upright. His smooth face was again expressionless and unreadable, although pink still tinged his pale skin. He arched a brow, a weird gleam in his smoke-blue eyes. "Not likely." 

Seifer's own brow quirked, confused. And that wasn't the response he had expected either. Squall always was strange. But usually Seifer understood his cryptic little looks and comments. At the moment he was clueless. Not that it was an uncommon turn of events the last few days. 

Squall continued, clearing his throat with a half-cough, the pink of his cheeks not fading. "Uh... We need to talk about what happened to you. Where you've been. Would have before, but we were kinda... interrupted." 

Seifer's expression darkened, the sadness over Rinoa's rejection dampening his mood. Strangely enough, he felt no anger towards Squall, although he had every right. After all, Squall had stolen his 'true love' from him. Seifer rolled his eyes at the thought of Rinoa and true love anywhere remotely related. He had been such a fool! 

Squall pressed on, like he hadn't noticed Seifer's shift in mood. But that would be typical, Squall never really cared about anyone else's problems but his own. 

"So, what happened?"   


tbc...   


* * *

  
(End Part 5b)   


Hope you are enjoying the story and there is more to come. 

And remember, please let me know what you think so far.   
neemeister@cox.net   



	7. Homecoming Part 5c

**_Author's notes:_** I know it's long in coming, but here is the full version of part 5. **Alot **has been added to the section I had posted before. Also there have been revisons, so Chapter 6 has been updated with a new revised version and I recommend rereading it if you've read the earlier version. 

I had intended the the entire scene played out in this chapter to finish in this chapter. But once I started fleshing out the dialogue with narrative... well... it became **much** longer than I expected. The rest of the scene will be in part 6 and going by how this went, it will probably be **all** of part 6 grin>. 

Also note I have a companion story to this one. **_Homecoming~ Second Chances_** is the story from Squall's point of view. 

**Warnings: Yaoi, angst (always), foul language, possible graphic violence, and most importantly: Rinoa romance. shudder>**

* * *

**Homecoming**   
_By Lady Tempest_

* * *

  
**Part 5c:**

"If I didn't know better, Leonhart, I could think you actually cared," Seifer muttered wryly, clasping a hand melodramatically over his heart. 

Squall's arms tightened into a more rigid knot across his chest as his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a scowl. 

"Okay, okay!" Grumbling, Seifer shuffled over to his bed and sat down numbly, his long legs stretched out before him. "Well..." He sighed and stared, head bowed, as his fingers laced together. 

Seifer was no fool. And he knew neither was Squall. A nagging sense of... something... tickled the back of his neck. Something foreboding. Something which, the truth of, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. But Seifer Almasy never ran from anything. Especially not the unknown. 

"I woke up a few days ago," he began, absently absorbed by the motion of his thumbs rubbing against each other. "... in the middle of nowhere...turns out it was Esthar..." He tried to chuckle but it fell from his throat in a rasped grunt. 

"... or at least on the continent... about a day from some airstation. The last thing I remembered was being in Timber." Seifer lifted his head and gazed with intense aqua eyes at Squall. 

Arms crossed, Squall stood still and rigid in the middle of the room. Waiting. Expectant. 

There had to be more, right? Right? Timber, then... ? Timber was no where near Esthar. So how...? It _was _Esthar, right? A sharp pain sliced through his eyes. Blackness crowded the edge of Seifer's vision. Blackness. Nothing but nothingness. 

Brow wrinkled in agony, Seifer pinched the bridge of his nose as though squeezing out the pain stabbing his mind. Tiny pricks of white light pulsed and darted within the half-dark of his clenched eyelids. 

Fuck, it hurt! He tried to focus, to think, remember. But there was only pain. Nothing but pain. 

He gasped, "I..." 

Nothing. Black. Only black. Like caught in a dream, a nightmare, darkness enshrouded his mind. Silence engulfed him. He couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Couldn't feel. Or smell. Or taste. Just a vast nothing. And the pain. 

In the dark, all he could feel was the pain. Taste it. Smell it. Hear it. Blood. Metallic and sickly sweet. And screams. Horrible screams. 

Then nothing once more. 

"I..." 

"Seifer?" 

His fingers clawed into his scalp, bristled hair tickling his palm. Nothing. Black. Pain. Nothing and nothing and nothing. A nothing so empty it hurt. Cold. Alone. So alone... 

Seifer!" 

And suddenly, it was gone, shattered like fine glass. Like sand seeping through fingers, the dark, cold shroud of that endless nothing slithered from his mind. Shivers raced along his skin. Seifer's hands dropped limply to his lap, slapping against his thighs. He blinked. 

"Seifer." Squall stood just a step or two before him, arms swaying at his side, hands twitching; Like he didn't know what to do with them. 

Seifer peered up the length of Squall's body, so close he could almost taste the leather and heat of Squall's tight pants. Dark blue eyes stared down at him, a crinkle in the scar between them. 

His breath was quick and sharp. "I... I don't remember anything else. It's... it's... just..." Seifer's lips pouted into a scowl. "... nothing." 

"Nothing?" 

"Nothing. Timber then... nothing. Literally." 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Squall was silent. His thick lashes flickered as his gaze went distant. A familiar distance Seifer knew well. And knew how to bridge. Usually. At the moment Seifer's own mind was roiling with more thoughts, confusion, than he knew how to control. Intruding on Squall's was the least of his concerns. 

Why couldn't he remember? Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't he fucking remember? Dammit! He couldn't have just appeared in Esthar. Or where ever it was. 

"It had to have been just a few hours," Seifer said quietly. 

"What?" Squall blinked. 

"Esthar. It had to be!" 

"Why do you say that?" Squall's expression was closed, his lips thinned. 

"I... I just know." 

"Oh?" 

Seifer rubbed his forehead. His hands shook, and his skin was cool and clammy. Damp. The whole situation was decidedly creepy. Very, very creepy. But hell if he would let anyone know his wits were on edge and his skin prickling. Especially _not _Squall. Hell, _he _didn't want to know. 

Staring at the floor, between his legs, the rough fibers of the carpet faded in and out. The blur slithered into his vision as the world crowded in on him, cold and suffocating. Maybe _he _was... 

No! There was a perfectly logical explanation of how he got several hundred miles from Timber and left in the middle of nowhere. Perfectly logical. And if someone of his superior intellect couldn't come up with one, then... well... 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. The throbbing behind his eyes spiked into pain and flashing sparkles of white. Fuck! There had to be an answer. Why the hell couldn't he find it! Dammit! Through pain-slitted eyes Seifer stared ahead. And stared into the glaring shine of black leather and the silver studs of Squall's belts. He winced. 

Dammit! Must Squall stand so close? So close the warmth radiating from him heated Seifer's face. Why did Squall have to be so fucking hot? It was stifling. How the hell was he to think straight with gloom-boy looming over him? Hell, he barely had room to breath, no less think. How did the guy even get into that second-skin masquerading as pants? Did Squall have a can of 'spray-on-leather' and he just _washed _it off at the end of the day? 

"Squall?" Seifer sighed. "Could you just go _sit _somewhere, _anywhere_? I'm sure it has a lovely personality..." With a raised brow, he squinted up at Squall. "... but I would rather _not _talk to your _crotch_." 

Blinking, Squall glanced down between them. With a grunt, he took a step back. Squall shook his head, his chestnut hair drifting across his face, giving the illusion of a slight grin on his lips. Illusion though it was, it remained as Squall stepped around Seifer and sat casually beside him on his bed. 

"Better?" Squall grumbled. Yet, what little Seifer could see through all that hair, the grin had become an airy smirk. 

"Much." Seifer rasped, his throat gone dry. 

He swallowed, pressing his sweaty hands to his pounding head. As he licked his lips, attempting to wet his mouth enough to prevent his tongue from sticking to it, he realized: He hadn't been. Not then. Not at first. 

Another swallow and he turned to Squall. "I _wasn't _dehydrated or even terribly thirsty, or _hungry_," he stated. 

Squall lifted his face and quirked a brow at him. Definitely Squall's 'What the fuck?' look. Finally, one he recognized. 

"... so only a few hours passed since Timber, maybe four or five at the _most_." 

"Because you weren't _hungry_?" Leaning slightly away from him, Squall canted his head and stared at him with incredulous ocean-blue eyes. 

Squall's 'What the fuck...' look slipped into 'Almasy, you're a fucking lunatic.' Another one he recognized. Hell, he should; He'd seen it often enough. Besides, after much dedication in requiring if of Squall, it had been uniquely created just for him. An accomplishment he was well and duly proud of. 

Seifer replied, finding his grin. "I _am _a growing boy!" 

Squall snorted, shaking his head. "I noticed. But what..." 

"I ate on the train from Balamb. Figured might as well keep my energy up if I was going to save your sorry asses." 

"Whatever..." Squall rolled his eyes. 

"So, see, only a few hours." 

"Seifer." Squall's gaze softened as he held his. Strangely, it felt... nice. Several times over the years he and Squall had similar moments. Moments where whatever it was they were to each other -- rivals, classmates,... friends -- suddenly surfaced. Moments where he could almost swear Squall actually did care. Moments that passed too quickly. 

Squall turned away, rubbing his forehead with his palm. His other arm snaked over his stomach in a half self-hug. "Go on," he said quietly. "What else do you remember?" 

Staring at his bare toes, Seifer's arms wrapped unconsciously around his own stomach to still a weird flutter. He took a deep breath. "I... I don't know." 

Squall was quiet beside him, waiting. 

"I just remember waking up in that wasteland. I was..." He paused. No way was he admitting he had been scared. Even though he had been. It wasn't important to figuring out any of what happened, anyway. 

"I was ... concerned I had lost Hyperion, then I found it nearby, a bit scuffed up and dirty, but in good condition otherwise. Besides the clothes on my back and Hyperion I had squat else. No water. No food. No fucking clue where I was or a way to find out. It fucking sucked!" 

Seifer frowned. "And it didn't help that when I finally did come across other people they were fucking loony!" 

With a snort, Squall mumbled something Seifer couldn't quite hear properly. He glanced over at the brunet whose face was suspiciously _too _expressionless. Seifer's eyes narrowed as he watched Squall warily. 

"Also," he continued, scowling. "I looked like I had been in some sort of fight, but I don't remember one. Pisses me off too..." 

He really hated kicking someone's ass but not remembering doing it. Kinda made it a bit pointless. He missed out on the fun and what he might have learned. Plus just the raw energy of battle singing through him was exhilarating. 

His frustrated scowl melted into a smirk. "... although I'd love to see the condition I left the other guy in." 

Squall coughed, like he had breathed wrong, and shifted uncomfortably beside him. 

"You okay?" Seifer asked reaching over to slap Squall on the back. 

Slightly pale, Squall nodded. "Continue." 

"Well..." The leather of Squall's jacket was warm as Seifer's hand absently rubbed the younger boy's back in slow circles. He could clearly remember the trek through the wasteland to Balamb. He could clearly remember his breaking out of detention to rush off and save Squall. Anything in-between: nothing. Zip. And fuck it if he would go to that painful, dark place again. 

He shivered. 

"... Well, other than a detailed synopsis of how I used my superior charms and skills at diplomacy to get from there to here, there's not much to tell." 

Squall snickered. "I'll have to ask my father if there's a trail of bodies from Esthar to Balamb. Your 'diplomacy' is about as subtle and 'skilled' as mine." 

"Hey! I'll have you kno-..." His hand on Squall's back stilled. "Wait a sec, did you say your '_father'_?" 

* * *

  
(End Part 5)   


_More Author's notes:_ This was an interesting, although complex and difficult, chapter to write. At first I felt I had lost some of the tone of previous chapters and hope I was able to recapture it. It took a bit of it's own direction near the middle. Initially most the conversation/dialogue was light-hearted. And then out of nowhere Seifer went all dark and moody, bringing out the pained non-memories. I like this version much better than the one I intended. 

Also, there's so much going on with Squall I needed to express but needed to express properly and Squall-like as well as subtly. Ironically, once I started writing Second Chances, instead of relieving some of the pressure of portraying Squall, it increased it. shrug> 

Plus, Squall is being an outrageous flirt (by Squall standards) in this chapter and there was a careful balance I tried keep in Squall being very much 'Squall' while he was being flirty, as well as concerned and caring. Thankfully he's dealing with Seifer, so the dynamic and foundation is already there. (Although if it wasn't Seifer, I'd have no reason to worry about it or bother writing it. grin>) 

Hope you are enjoying the story and there is more to come. 

And remember, please let me know what you think so far.   
neemeister@cox.net   



End file.
